A Battle of My Choosing
by PadawanMage
Summary: Set during the Battle of Hadrian's Wall. What went on in Lancelot's mind as he looked from Arthur to Guinevere during the battle? Action! Violence! Angst! As well as some added scenes not in the movie. Major spoilers for the movie!


**Title: **"A Battle of My Choosing"

**Time Period/Spoilers: **'King Arthur' movie

**Rating: **PG-13 (action/violence)

**Summary: **Lancelot makes a choice as to whom to go help during the Battle at Hadrian's Wall.

**Author's Notes: **One viewing of King Arthur and I later end up writing a fic while listening to the soundtrack! The one scene that made me want to write was when Lancelot looked from Arthur to Guinevere during the battle at Hadrian's Wall and I had to think, 'What went through his mind when he looked at both'? Not to mention when Lancelot comments that he would hopefully die at a battle of his choosing (hence the title). I also added in some extra scenes that might have been in the movie. Just because we didn't see them doesn't mean they didn't happen. ;-)

This work is unbetaed, so please bear that in mind when reading!

Please enjoy and review!

* * *

"A Battle of My Choosing"

Lancelot toppled off his horse as several Saxons surrounded and attacked him. He hit the muddy ground at the same time another Saxon fell on top of him, seizing his neck. Choking, he tried to dislodge the strong hands as they dug deeper, but he had no leverage. With a gasp, he reached into his ankle and pulled out a small dagger which he rammed into the neck of his attacker. The Saxon's eyes widened in shock and he pulled away, hands to neck. Lancelot gulped in a ragged breath and saw a shadow fall over him. Grunting, he rolled away as an axe cleaved into the muddy spot he recently occupied. He heard the wielder swear as the ground proved stubborn to release its grip on his weapon. Yelling, the knight slammed his sword through the owner who screamed in agony. Lancelot pulled the short sword out, barely noticing the warm, steaming blood that covered it. He reached behind and unsheathed its twin, looking for the next attack.

A scream from behind and he instantly sidestepped and pirouetted, barely dodging a studded mace smashing down a mere foot from where he stood. Completing the spin, he punched the Saxon in the nose with a gloved fist, breaking it with a sickening snap and sent him staggering backwards. The invader shook off the blow and, baring blood-stained teeth, raised his mace and started forward. Lancelot raised his swords but stopped when out of the all-encompassing fire and smoke, half-a-dozen blue-skinned Woads erupted and pounced on his attacker. One garroted him with a thin wire, while the rest hacked at him with their swords and knives, pulling him to the ground. For a split second, even Lancelot had to grimace slightly at what the Woads were doing to the now-screaming man. One Woad, blue face covered with red blood, looked up and grinned nastily at him.

_These people fought us for 15 years_, he thought, _and it is no wonder why…they're _all_ mad!_

If someone had told Lancelot that he'd be fighting (more or less) side-by-side with Woads a day or so after he'd been given his freedom to leave this hell on earth, he would've decked the person saying so on sheer principle alone! He quickly looked around but all he could see through the haze of smoke and fire was the fighting of Woads and Saxons. There was no sign of Arthur, any other of the other knights…or of one particular Woad. Vainly, Lancelot looked to the side of the battlefield cut off from the rest by a soaring wall of fire, but all he could hear was the sounds of battle. Something flashed high above his head and he watched a massive ball of fire arc over and smash into a cluster of Saxons. Lancelot smiled grimly as many of the invaders screamed from becoming so much more kindling for a fire set by Merlin himself.

_That Dark Magician certainly knows how to unleash Hell!_

So preoccupied was he watching the enemy burn, he nearly died as a huge Saxon, towering over him, raised his broad sword and aimed it at the knight's head. Lancelot, with no time to dodge, brought up and crossed his swords, catching the blade mere inches from his head. His arms buckled from the impact and he grunted loudly as the Saxon, sensing weakness, pressed his attack. The huge man's eyes suddenly bulged and his sword limply fell from his hands as he slumped forward on top of a very surprised Lancelot. He felt something hard protruding from the Saxon's back and instinctively pulled it out just as the body fell the to ground. A bloody dagger lay in his hand. Surprised, he looked up to see a Woad girl – not yet a woman – stand not several yards away with her hand outstretched. Lancelot stared from the dagger to the girl, who was now sporting a smirk. Although he could not speak their language, Lancelot could tell what the girl was saying with her eyes:

_You owe me…_

He had to smile at that, but it turned immediately into a grimace as the dagger flew from his hand towards the girl, who gasped in shocked surprise. She brought her hands up in a futile gesture and closed her eyes, but all she heard was a loud grunt very close to her. Her head snapped over her shoulder just in time to see an animal-skinned Saxon – only a handful of feet away – drop his sword and fall backwards to the ground, her dagger embedded in his skull. She whipped her head back and Lancelot gave her a smirk of his own with a nod and a raised eyebrow.

_Now we're even…_

She started to say something but suddenly unsheathed her sword as several Saxons converged on her. More blue-skinned Britons came from the other side and clashed with them. Lancelot was about to head into the fray when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Without thinking, he shoved his swords behind him and heard a surprised squawk come from the Saxon who'd tried to sneak up on him. He pulled the swords out with a sharp yank. The dead man sliding down his side was immediately forgotten as Lancelot glanced over and a deep, cold pit formed in his stomach.

The smoke cleared briefly, and though the wall of fire he saw Guinevere fighting a shaven-headed Saxon wearing black furs. He tensed when he recognized him as the one leading the army at the frozen lake. He could see her holding her own, but it was only a matter of time. His head whipped behind him and could see several yards away Arthur battling several Saxons at once.

He knew what he had to do, where he had to be, but for the first time since fighting on this accursed isle he did the one thing he'd thought he'd never do:

He hesitated.

He thought of Arthur: commander, friend, brother. Blood shared between them to fill the whole of the channel between here and the main continent. Countless campaigns, innumerable crusades…battle after battle against odds that would make any other man blanch and still they were able to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

Then he thought of Guinevere: former enemy, mystery and…something else? It was only a few glances here and there…only a few words exchanged. Yet he could see her change from the fragile girl rescued in a dungeon, to the defiant savior of the boy, Lucan, to the blue-skinned warrior even now fighting someone who would make most men cringe. He'd had women before. Hell, he'd even had Bors' lover! But…that was surely lust. Guinevere…sparked something in him he never thought he'd feel…which scared him.

And he was torn as to whom to help. His loyalty, his _honor_ demanded he be at the side of one…but his heart, his _soul_ burned for him to be at the side of another.

_Which one?_

His head snapped back to see the Saxon leader parry one of Guinevere's attacks and slash at her face with his sword. She barely pulled back in time, but Lancelot swore he could hear the gasp as a bloody gash appeared on her cheek.

_No!_

And his choice was made.

Something caught his eye to his right and, seeing what it was, ran towards it. One spear-bearing Saxon tried to run him through, but Lancelot savagely knocked it away with one sword and slashed at his attacker with the other. The knight was already sprinting away even before the man hit the bloody ground.

Heart pounding in his ears, Lancelot couldn't help feel a slight twinge of guilt at putting Guinevere's safety above Arthur's. He gritted his teeth when he remembered hearing Arthur's pledge to his God that his life was forfeit if it meant the safety and freedom of his men. Lancelot was by no means a religious man, far from it. Grudgingly, he quickly glanced up at the sky as he ran.

_I will not get on me knees_, he thought. _Not for you. But if you are there…if you do exist, then I will gladly take Arthur's place in his pledge._ He had nothing more to say as he looked down again and smiled at what he saw.

Amazingly, Lancelot's horse stood there, unharmed, as the bodies of several Saxons lay around it. It perked up, seeing it's owner run up to it. "Don't fail me now, old friend," Lancelot breathed as he mounted his steed. The horse snorted as if insulted by its owner questioning its abilities. However, it sensed the dire emergency in how Lancelot handled the reins and it reared back on its hind legs and sprang forth so hard and fast, Lancelot's helmet fell away from his head. The knight urged his horse faster and faster, taking swipes at enemy here and there. The wall of fire loomed ever closer and Lancelot felt his horse tense up at the danger. Still he urged it on.

Guinevere still fought, though Lancelot could see her bleeding and her attacks looking stiffer with every second. She swung her axe but had it swiped away as it caught the edge of the Saxon leader's shield, whose owner contemptuously backhanded her with it. She yelped and fell to the ground.

With a savage yell, Lancelot pulled up on the reins and his horse jumped over the wall of fire, barely clearing it. He was out of the saddle even before all four of the beast's legs touched the ground.

--

Guinevere glared at the Saxon as he stood over her. No fear crossed her eyes, merely hatred. The man lunged forward, eager to finish it. Guinevere blinked once and an ear-splitting clang rang around her as two crossed swords appeared and stopped the descent of the Saxon's blade. Both she and the Saxon looked up in surprise to see Lancelot kick the man savagely away from her. Guinevere rolled away and looked up to see the dark-haired knight and the Saxon leader joined in combat.

--

Lancelot kept up the pressure, attacking again and again, trying to put some distance between them and Guinevere. He lunged again, both swords flashing, but the Saxon deflected his attack and returned the favor with a punch to his face. Lancelot fell backward to the ground and looked up in time to see a blade coming down. He brought his swords up again, blocked the strike, and rammed his boot into his opponent's groin. The man fell back several feet and stumbled to the ground, his sword falling out of reach. Lancelot got up and was immediately attacked by another Saxon. He ducked the swinging blade, backhanded his opponent and followed through with a solid punch. He lunged forward and buried both swords into his opponent. With a cry, he ripped them out of the dead man's body. He turned around…

…and something slammed into his chest with a metallic thunk, knocking the wind out of him with a surprised gasp. Numbly, he looked down and saw an arrow sticking out of his armor, just below the heart.

_Armor…piercing_, he thought numbly.

Thunderstruck, he looked up and saw the Saxon leader he was fighting previously smirking as he held a large and expended cross bow in his hands. He let it casually drop to the ground and bent down to retrieve his sword.

Lancelot's vision was already dimming, but even so, all he could think of was this…_coward_ having his way with Guinevere. With a heart shattering, primal yell he threw one of his swords at the Saxon's chest. It sank right to hilt through the solar plexus. The leader took a step back, blinked at the hilt, and fell to the ground.

"Lancelot!"

He heard Guinevere's anguished scream but felt only shock. With a hand at the bloody arrow, he fell to his knees. Lancelot tried to steady himself with his sword, but swayed a bit and finally fell to his side. His vision dimmed and the battle around him began to fade.

Unbidden, in what to him felt like an eternity, but to the rest of the world was only a second, his life flashed before his eyes:

_…his father, looking proudly up at him as he rode his first horse…_

_…the changing leaves in the forests near his village…_

_…Arthur putting his hand on his shoulder and calling him brother…_

_…and a woman, with beautiful, pale skin…being cleaned behind a curtain…looking up and catching him watching her…_

Lancelot's lips trembled as he silently spoke the name one final time:

"Guin – Guinevere…"

And he said no more.

--

She gazed down at his face, marveling at how peaceful he looked. No pain, no bitterness marred his visage any longer. Slowly, with trembling hands she reached over and closed his eyes and then kissed him gently on the forehead. She sat back on her knees, holding on to one of his hands and waiting for Arthur to inevitably show.

"You're free," Guinevere whispered. "You're free."

-FIN-


End file.
